


Ce Qui Se Passe 'A Paris

by uaevuon



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Annie/Eren - Freeform, Biphobia, Communication Failure, M/M, Underage Drinking, Vague Sex, bullshit, inspired by a dream, jean/eren - Freeform, probably not the healthiest of relationships, reiner/eren, rom-com without the com
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4530171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uaevuon/pseuds/uaevuon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once a month, Eren sleeps with Armin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ce Qui Se Passe 'A Paris

**Author's Note:**

> i was supposed to be writing... well, not this. other things. 
> 
> as a result of some of my other in-progress fics, namely Orange, i’m used to writing Armin with she/her pronouns; i did my best to keep it all he/him in this fic but i may have missed a few. contrary to my usual fics, in this one they’re both cis guys.

On the first of every month, without fail, Eren lets himself into Armin’s room. The door is always unlocked; their schedules are always open. It doesn’t matter what day of the week it is, or even where they are; even at home Eren will still come, and they’ll be very, very quiet. 

The first time was during their freshman orientation. The HR and her friends from the orientation student-staff had gotten piss-drunk in the common room, and not a single one of them cared that the freshies were in there with them. Armin, lightweight that he was, was tipsy after half a beer and dizzy after two; he left for his room halfway through the third and passed it on to Eren. 

Their rooms were next to each other. Armin had left the door unlocked. And Eren walked right in just before midnight. 

By that point Armin was a little more clear-headed, and Eren hadn’t had much more than him but held it a little better, so when he flopped down directly on top of Armin, thinking it was his own bed, it took only a moment of blind panic before Armin realised what was going on and kissed Eren square on the mouth. 

They woke up naked and with searing headaches, remembering every vivid detail of Armin’s clumsy blowjob and Eren jacking him off in return. Blushing, stuttering, they agreed to never talk about it again. 

And they might have continued that way if it hadn’t happened again. 

Not drunk this time, oh no -- fully sober, they’d engaged in an incredibly ill-advised game of Gay Chicken. Or, since they and most of their friends actually were gay, more of a general Chicken, with a spinning ketchup bottle to make things interesting. 

When Armin’s pants came off, the rest of the group cleared out to go play in Mikasa’s room. Somehow they’d never really expected anyone to go that far, or if they had, they hadn’t exactly planned on what to do about it. 

But the pair still rolling around on Armin’s dorm room floor kept pushing, kept touching, kept pulling off clothes, lips crashing together, and neither felt any need to pull away. Neither felt anything but a desire to go further, get more, give and take and --

The third time was just as unplanned, but maybe a little less of an accident. Armin came back to his room crying; Eren heard him through their shared wall. 

He walked right in and hugged his best friend; Armin stammered out that his boyfriend had broken up with him. It had only been a few weeks, but it was Armin’s first, and he was devastated as anyone would be after their first breakup. 

“Can we do it again?” Armin asked, in a tiny voice. 

And Eren, not thinking of the consequences, pushed him down onto the bed and kissed every inch of his body, wondering how the hell anyone could hurt Armin and not feel a shred of guilt about it. 

In December, Armin noticed the pattern. And he left the door open, just in case. 

At around one in the morning, he gave up and went to sleep, but just as he laid down, Eren knocked on the door. 

And then it was a habit. 

New Year’s Day had Eren fumbling with slippery fingers to unwrap a condom, his hair dripping sweat onto Armin’s belly because the heaters in Armin’s house were turned way too high, making his top-floor room feel like a sauna. Armin took the packet from him. 

“Just wipe your hands on the bed,” Armin said as he tore open the wrapper. “I don’t care, it’ll wash.” 

Armin knew he was in love with Eren long before his legs went over Eren’s shoulders and he pushed into him, tearing a cry from Armin’s throat that would be heard all throughout the house if everyone else hadn’t been out. But they weren’t together, not really; they were just fucking. So Armin bit his lips and swallowed the words like had Eren’s cum that first time. 

It wasn’t until May that they had a problem. 

Eren was in his first long-term relationship -- long-term meaning more than a week. He’d been with Reiner since the third of April, and Armin thought maybe they could make it, except Reiner was trying to make someone else jealous and Eren kept staring at him with heat in his eyes, more and more as the new month approached. 

“Don’t come tonight,” Armin told Eren, and it hurt, but he wouldn’t be the one to make Eren cheat. 

Eren showed up anyway. He’d broken up with Reiner. “We weren’t working out anyway,” was his reason. Armin wanted to see more in that, but Eren was the kind of person to say everything he needed to say at once. He always had been. There was nothing in Eren’s eyes to suggest he felt the same love that Armin did. 

Armin should have thrown him out, saying he wouldn’t be Eren’s fix-it fuck, but he didn’t. He took what he could get, and what he got was Eren’s dick in him, and for now it was enough. 

And it kept happening. After the summer, in which they’d found new and creative ways to fuck in Armin’s house without anyone overhearing, they came back to college for their second year and Eren dated Jean, against all expectations, and then a bunch of guys Armin didn’t know, but he always broke up with them before the first of the month. He always came into Armin’s bed a single man, and he left the same way. 

Armin asked, once, why the hell he kept breaking up with everyone. And Eren answered, “I dunno. I figure if I’m looking forward to fucking my friend more than them, we’re probably not gonna work out anyway.” 

_Then why not date me?_ Armin thought, but of course he didn’t voice it. If that was what Eren wanted he would’ve asked for it by now. He had to know how Armin felt. Even if he was completely oblivious, it was plain as day. 

Armin knew it needed to stop. They had to stop, take the benefits out of friends-with-benefits. But he also knew he couldn’t trust himself to let Eren go if they were around each other. 

So he left. 

Junior year abroad wasn’t all that popular at their college; most students just wanted to get their degrees and get out. But Armin found a year-long program in France that would fit perfectly in his Anthropology major, and he didn’t tell Eren until he was accepted. 

“You’re leaving?” was Eren’s first response.

“Just for a year. I’ll be back.” _And when I’m back, I’ll be over you, and you’ll be fucking someone else,_ he thought, but he didn’t say it. 

“I’ll miss you.”

Armin knew he would. They were best friends, had been all their lives. They’d never been apart for so long. 

Eren hugged him tight. 

“I’m not leaving yet,” Armin mumbled, not really protesting, but the butterflies in his stomach were swarming and his heart was beating way too fast. 

“Well, I miss you already.”

\---

“I’m dating someone.”

Armin had left for France in July. It was September, and he was starting to get accustomed to the difference between language classes and immersion, as well as the lack of sex. But a phone call to Eren brought flashbacks of moaning under his touch and squeezing around his cock, because Eren was dating someone and there was no Armin around to stop him. 

And Armin wasn’t over him yet. 

“That’s good,” Armin lied. “Who?”

Eren took a while to answer, but finally he said, “Annie.”

Armin saw red. “I thought you were gay.”

“I thought I was too.” 

Armin’s hands fisted in his blankets. So everything they’d done was a lie, then? Fuck. _Fuck!_ If anything could hurt more than knowing Eren didn’t love him, that was it. His pitifully tiny apartment suddenly felt too big, too empty. “I have to go.”

“Armin,” Eren started. 

“I’m gonna be late for class,” he lied. “Bye.”

Conversations with Eren were strained after that, and Armin cried himself to sleep more than once because he knew, he _knew_ he was losing his best friend and he hated it and he hated himself for leaving and he hated Eren for being straight and he hated both of them for fucking every month like it was nothing and he hated the damn HR in their first year for letting them drink until they were wasted enough to decide it would be a good idea. 

Eren was with Annie for eight months, and with each month that passed Armin hurt more and more because it seemed like the longer it went on, the more likely it was that Eren had found someone who he wanted more than Armin. 

But then it was May, and Armin was going to come home on the first of June, and a week before his flight Eren called him to say he’d broken up with Annie. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Armin asked. 

“I-- _why_? Isn’t it obvious?”

Armin sighed. “Well, you’ve barely been taking to me.”

“You’ve barely been talking to me!” The line crackled, like Eren breathed out hard into the phone. “I thought you were my best friend. But lately it’s like I don’t even know you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” Armin tried to keep his voice a monotone, but his chest felt tight and he knew, after all this time, he was _still_ in love with Eren, and Eren didn’t -- _couldn’t_ love him back. 

“What, because I dated a girl? Well, excuse me for being bisexual.” 

Armin closed his eyes, feeling warm tears on his lashes. “God, don’t even try. I’m not gonna kill you for being straight, so don’t lie to me.”

“What? I’m not-- I just said!” 

“Bye, Eren. I’ll see you soon.” He hung up while Eren searched for a response. 

\---

The plane ride back to the States passed in a haze; Armin took some European cold medicine before takeoff and it knocked him right out, so he only experienced the ride in short, blurry bursts while he took another pill and waited for it to kick in again. He was only lucid for the last hour, and the descent made him feel a little ill. 

The car ride to his hometown was much worse, because it was almost silent. His grandfather tried to talk to him about the trip, but Armin answered with barely more than a word at a time, and when asked why, he just said he was still sleepy from the medicine and the jet lag. 

That night, Eren climbed the drain pipe under his window once more, and Armin, even as angry as he was, let him in. 

They fucked, and it hurt because Armin just wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, and he barely let Eren prepare him before he pushed him down and took matters into his own hands. He straddled Eren’s lap and lowered himself onto his cock, hissed when the head went in because it burned, and then held his breath when he dropped the rest of the way so that he wouldn’t scream. 

Armin rode him fast, hard, too much for Eren to slow him down or even get a hand between them to fist Armin’s cock, but he didn’t need to. Armin had gone a year with only his hand as any relief and it had been depressing enough after the first few times that he just stopped trying, so this time he came just as fast as he fucked himself, faster than Eren did and Armin _never_ came first. 

Once Eren had his fill too Armin got off him and rolled over to face the wall. “I hate you,” he lied, while Eren got rid of the condom. “I hate you so much.”

“I’m sorry.” Eren got into bed behind him and took his place as the big spoon. 

“Are you really bisexual?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He didn’t know how to deal with that. Armin always thought anyone who said that was just lying, either trying to pretend they weren’t gay or trying to take advantage of someone who was. But he couldn’t ever think Eren was lying to him. It went against everything he’d ever known about Eren. So he’d deal with it, somehow. 

\---

Going back to his own college was like a weird dream for Armin; the kind that isn’t quite good and isn’t quite a nightmare, the kind that’s partway between passive and lucid, the kind you wake up from only half-remembered and with a weird feeling in your stomach. His friends were the same; some with a few more tattoos or a new haircut but basically the same as when he left. Mikasa had, in the interim, shaved her head and donated her impressively long hair, and it had grown back to about chin-length since then. He almost didn’t recognise her. She’d stayed on campus all summer instead of coming home. 

She had no idea Eren and Armin had fought until she saw them. And she was pissed. 

“I can’t believe you two. How could you let this -- let anything get between you?” She looked like she wanted to bash their heads in, and if they’d been anyone but her two best friends in the world she probably would have. 

They kind of deserved it. 

\---

They were fucking again, but this time it wasn’t just once a month. At first Armin thought maybe they were making up for lost time when Eren came to him once a week or more, but then he didn’t stop. 

Armin thought he’d have to fight for Eren’s affection, now that Eren was after more than just guys, but Eren barely fucked around with anyone. Maybe once or twice, but that was just one-night stands in September and after that Armin never heard a thing about anyone else. 

“What are we doing?” He asked. It had taken him most of the year; their graduation robes were ordered, finals were creeping in, and Mikasa would be valedictorian to no-one’s surprise. But Armin had let it go all year, until the first of May. It had been forty-four months since the first time they fucked, and that night, if the lips on lips and Eren’s hand snaking under Armin’s shirt were any indication, it would be the eightieth time. He had to ask while he still had the nerve. 

“I think we’re about to fuck,” Eren said. He backed off and stared at Armin. “Do you not want to?” It would be the first time Armin had turned him away. 

“I want to, but… why?”

“...Why do you want to fuck me?” Eren guessed at Armin’s question. “Or why do I want to fuck you?”

“Both, I guess. Why are we doing this?”

“Because we always do.”

“Why?!” Armin asked, louder. He felt like a child, asking _why?_ of every answer he got because he wanted to know everything, even if it didn’t make sense. “Why did we even start?”

“I don’t know. We were pretty drunk the first time.”

“Why didn’t we stop? We’re… we’re not, _together._ ”

Eren’s eyes widened, like that surprised him. “Um.”

“...Did you think we were?”

“Well.” He stuttered a bit. “Um. Recently, yeah. Kind of.”

Armin sat back against the wall, where a headboard might have been on a bed that wasn’t made for a college dorm. He gaped at Eren.

“Guess I was wrong.” He seemed to shut down; the heat, the light in his eyes faded and he looked away. 

“Why would you even want to?” Armin asked. “Why would you want me?”

Eren looked up, the light returning to his eyes. “What do you mean? I-- you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you,” Eren said. Like it was obvious. 

“What?”

His earnest eyes turned nervous. “I-I said I love you.”

Armin had heard the first time but he couldn’t believe it. Again he asked, “What?”

“I said --”

“I heard you! I just.” He felt something uncomfortable bubble up between his stomach and his heart. He’d never noticed. He couldn’t believe it, because he’d never noticed anything and he was supposed to be the smart one, the clever one, the observant one with all the answers. He couldn’t have missed something like that. “Since when?” 

“Since freshman year, probably. At least.”

Armin could feel his whole face turn red to his ears, and he knew the flush was already spreading below his collar because, god damn it, he was a full-body blusher through and through. “Y-you…” A million insults ran through Armin’s head but he couldn’t bear to say a single one of them because this was all he wanted. Just this. This was what he’d missed out on; this was what he’d left behind when he ran away to France. This was what he’d made himself sick for, time and time again, because he wanted it so bad and the fact that he never thought he could have it had turned his stomach and made his blood run cold. And this was what he’d had all along, and never known it. 

“I’m sorry.” Eren started to move off the bed. “I’ll go.”

“No!” Armin reached out to stop him. He didn’t know what he was reaching for exactly but he wound up with his fists in Eren’s collar. So he pulled him down and kissed him. 

Eren started to respond, to kiss him back like it was instinct, but then he gasped and pulled back. “Armin…”

“Me too,” Armin said. “I love you too.”

“Oh.”

“How did you miss that?”

Eren smiled. “You’re the smart one.”

Armin closed his eyes and laughed; after all this, and all his bad decisions, he didn’t really get how Eren could still think that about him. But he didn’t want to talk about it. Not yet. He leaned back on his bed and pulled Eren down with him. “Fuck me like you mean it,” he said. 

“You sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”


End file.
